Zero Percent

The red bar flickered once and then the light

collapsed into a flat, oil-slick black.

I was midway through a sentence, a fight

about why I’m never coming back.

Now the streetlights are the only thing left,

buzzing with a low, electric hum.

I am standing on a corner, feeling the theft

of the one voice that could make me numb.

I look into the glass and see my own eyes,

a ghost trapped in a brick of plastic and lead.

The silence is the only thing that never lies

once the battery is finally, truly dead.